Wednesday, April 24, 2002

BWHAHAHAHAH! New strings on the Martin and it sounds GOOD!

Now, if I can just keep this thing out of a campfire this weekend...
ONE MORE NOTE TO LOST HAIR DUDE. I never meant the "short-haired" comment as an insult. I was simply being my typical asshole self. But I REALLY APPRECIATED the observation that United Way is the NPR of charities. I wish I had come up with that perfectly symmetrical analogy myself.

May I steal it in the future and claim it as my very own cleverness?
Okay, I am ready to go pack my bag for the trip to MERLEFEST tomorrow. JB, I am not heeding your good advice; I'm taking the Martin with me. It sounds better than any other guitar I own and it may impress a lusty babe if I catch her in the right mood around the campfire. I have friends travelling with me to keep me out of severe trouble, but they'll let me troll da babes and pull me out of the campfire if I fall in. They have been instructed to save THE MARTIN FIRST if push comes to shove, which they will do, in hopes that I die and THEY can keep that guitar. Those are my trusted friends, and I rely on them. They remind me of me.

This will be the last post until Sunday, if I survive the trip. Otherwise, it's been fun, but I gotta run.
I have been a heavy cigarette smoker, a functioning alcoholic and a willing worker in the evil chemical industry for most of my adult life. I eat a lot of rare beef, use pesticides regularly around my home, shun fiber in favor of greasy fried stuff, and generally believe that the four basic food groups are caffiene, nicotine, alcohol and cholesterol. I don't eat tofu or organically-grown bean sprouts, and I consider Mother Nature my enemy, not my friend. (The Battle of the Okra is a perfect example. See earlier posts.) Results of all kinds of "scientific" studies confirm that with my risk-intense lifestyle, I should be dead by now of several different forms of cancer or respiratory disease.

But I'm not. I probably can outwalk, outclimb and outwork most of the beady-eyed worry-warts who create the scare of the day designed to make unthinking people stay in bed for fear of dying if they crawl out from under the covers. "Science" has become a cottage industry in which doomsayers make a lucrative living by running before the press to declare, "Look at the NEW THING I've discovered that's gonna KILL YOU." Meanwhile, the average life-span has increased by five years in the last ten, despite all the new menaces to life-spans "discovered" by those shameless media-whores.

How can I be so adamant about this? It's easy. I developed prostate cancer at the age of 49. Obviously, the toxic chemicals I worked with for years, plus the cigarettes, the booze and the rare steaks had SOMETHING to do with that. I have a basic human need to blame my misfortune on SOMETHING ELSE, rather than a genetic predisposition to the disease. It was pesticides, dioxins, air pollution, nuclear waste, the hole in the ozone, overly-heated McDonald's coffee and invisible rays emitted from coatings on guitar strings that gave me cancer.

Yeah, the same thing may have killed my father, but THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT! I am a victim of capitalist industry, and it's deliberate spewing of cancer-causing pollutants, pure and simple.

I work for a company that has, as its corporate creed and vision for success, this simple motto: "We strive to produce evil, deadly chemicals that kill our employees, poison our customers and give asthma to local school childern. We figure that the more we pollute, the more money we make. If we can manage to kill off everybody in the world, then we can run the whole shebang to suit ourselves."

Environmentalists preach such ridiculous sermons all the time, and ignorant people believe them. Of course, ignorant people don't know a glass of water from a deadly container of dihydrogen monoxide, which hit the blog-sites as new news lately, about five years after a schoolboy proved how effective environmental scare-mongering has become. It's amusing to the bloggers, but not to me. Read about it:

Take the example of a story made famous a couple of years ago, when a junior high school student named Nathan Zohner surveyed a group of classmates for a school science project. Zohner told them about a chemical called dihydrogen monoxide. It is colorless, odorless, tasteless, and causes thousands of deaths every year. Prolonged exposure to its solid form causes severe tissue damage, exposure to its gaseous form causes severe burns, and it has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients. Of 50 people Nathan surveyed, 43 said that dihydrogen monoxide should be banned, 6 weren’t sure what to do, and only one person correctly identified dihydrogen monoxide as plain old water, or H2O.
Now, the thought of reasonable people wanting to ban water may seem like a bit of an exaggeration. But this story makes two good points:
First, it illustrates how even educated laymen will often fall back on a reflexive opposition to things that seem strange or new to them – especially things with complicated chemical names.
And second, it serves as a reminder that nothing – not even clean, pure water – is ever totally safe.

I have to deal with the regulators, who are driven by political concerns, their checklist reports, their 500-pound gorilla attitudes and their goddamned overblown egos a LOT more than they care about the environment. And they are bureaucrats, skillfully versed in the regulations, but woefully cluless about how the real world works, and there is no debate with these people.

I was cited for... well, never mind. THIS IS WHY I WRITE UNDER A PSEUDONYM. I had a government official point out some standing water in my area. I explained that the standing water was in a CONTAINMENT AREA, which was designed to hold standing water on the off-chance that it might be acidic or alkiline, if any of the storage tanks in the CONTAINMENT AREA leaked. The government goon was a long, tall, sour-faced woman with a government-issued clipboard (MY FUCKING TAX DOLLARS AT WORK!) who proceeded to issue THREE CITATIONS because I had standing water in containment areas (duh...I was aware that containment areas are REQUIRED around tanks that contain evil, toxic chemicals, but I WASN'T AWARE that you CAN'T HAVE ANYTHING IN THOSE CONTAINMENT AREAS, not even goddamned RAINWATER, which is what she saw.

Once she cited me for the first one, like a good little Hitler, she asked if I had any more containment areas nearby. I learned long ago not to lie to those brainless twits, because they may be fools and idiots, but they represent the US government, which has the power to shut THE ENTIRE PLANT DOWN down before we can kill everybody in the world with our gleeful pollution. So, I showed her two more that held rainwater, and she dutifully cited me for both of those.

I went home that evening and sent a donation to the Sierra Club, because that experience made me a true believer in the environmentalist movement. I have seen the light. As long as we have the demented leading the blind, we'll have an ideal society. THAT'S what I want my country to become. Little boxes made of ticky-tackey... and you will fit in one.

Resistance is futile. You WILL be assimilated.

Now, for an example of COMPLETE ASININITY:

"If we're going to have the Shield of David, why would we not have to accept the swastika?"

-Former president of the International Committee of the Red Cross Cornelio Sommaruga named to fact-finding committee to determine what happened at Jenin.

Yeah. Symbols is as symbols does. The Red Cross is a symbol just like the swastica, too. And the Red Cross isn't doing a lot to dissuade me from seeing the similarity lately.

I have never given a dime of my money to United Way in my entire life, and I never will. Call me suspicious, but I always wondered why everywhere I ever worked, the employer made a concerted, sometimes arm-twisting effort to achieve a United Way donation goal.

Why THAT particular charity? I give money to the March of Dimes (I know personally people THEY have helped), the American Diabetes Association ( my BROTHER is diabetic) and the Shriners (THEY have helped both relatives AND people I know personally. Plus, they have grand, drunken parties at their conventions.) I also know personally people who have had extreme medical crises in their children's lives, gone to United Way for help and been turned down, only to have the March of Dimes or the Shrines show up unsolicited to take care of the problem.

No, I don't give money to United Way. I have plenty of reasons, but they GAVE ME ONE MORE today.

Tuesday, April 23, 2002

I don't know the reason for it, but I'm picking up a lot of visits to my site while I am at work every day. I had 2505 when I went to bed last night, and I had 2558 when I came home this evening. Mom, is that YOU?

I'll be damned! It's 2578 now. I'm getting more visits in a day than I once received in a month. Watch out, Glenn Reynolds; I'm closing in FAST! To catch your 49,000 hits per day, I will need only to increase my readership by a factor of... let's see...ummm...the F of X gozenta pi R squared... and you add one-half base times height... invert and multiply... stick one of those weird sine decimals in there... factor both sides of the equation... call a Certified Public Accountant for a fact-check...AND JUST GIVE UP ON THIS CONFUSING GOBBLEDEGOOK AND BECOME AN ENGLISH MAJOR! I STILL don't do math.

But I am delighted that someone other than me and my Mama is reading this stuff.
I know this is juvenile, but I have to do it, thanks to my national champion ex-linebacker friend Ed, who sent me the e-mail.

Once upon a time, Hercules, Snow White and Quasimoto were talking over a picnic lunch.
Hercules says, "You know, everyone says I am the strongest mortal on the earth, but I don't know how to prove it. That bothers me a lot."
Snow White said "You're right! Everyone says I am the fairest, but how can I be sure?"
Quasimoto agrees. "Yeah, and I'm supposed to be the ugliest!"
Suddenly Snow White has an idea. "You know, guys, I've got the answer. Let's pray about this and ask God to tell us the truth."
Hercules says "Great, Let's meet tomorrow and tell our tales."
Quasimoto gets up to leave and says "See you tomorrow. Boy, I'm going to find out for certain that I'm the ugliest."
The next day, they meet at a restaurant in town. Hercules says, "I talked to God, and He says that I am truly the strongest."
Snow White says, "So did I, and I am truly the fairest."
Quasimoto has his head down, leaning on the table and says, "Who the hell is Janet Reno?"

I always was frightened by the possibility that Janet Reno would get drunk one night, seduce Warren Christopher and produce the ugliest offspring in the history of the world. Thank goodness that never happened.

I do believe SHORT-HAIRED COUNTRY BOY has found another one of those wonder sites he stumbles across every now and then. JB, where do you find this crap?
Linda Lovelace DIED TODAY from injuries sustained in a car crash in Colorado. She was 53.

As the star of Deep Throat she helped revolutionize and legitimize the pornographic movie industry. Although she later became an anti-porn activist, her legacy remains intact. She left indelible... uh, lipstick stains on a part of popular culture that moved from sleazy movie theaters in the low-rent part of town to home VCRs and cable television in just a few years.

Goodbye, Linda.
I have thought about it a lot, and I still don't feel victimized by Microsoft. Several state's Attorneys General, however, still intoxicated from the riches they reaped in shaking down Big Tobacco, are going after Bill Gates with hammers and tongs, justifying their blatantly predatory behavior by saying that they are protecting ME from GATES' blatantly predatory behavior.

I don't know of a single state's Attorney General who ever did a damned thing for my life except complicate it by going off on some wild-haired, crime-crusader campaign just before the Attorney General was ready to run for Governor. Gates gave me low-cost computers with an operating system that may frustrate me at times, but still gets the job done. He has made the world a better place, much more so than any Attorney General ever did.

Sure, Gates plays rough in business. Nobody becomes the richest person in the world by being a nice guy. But don't call his behavior criminal or every Attorney General in the country is going to jail with him, because THEY are NOT NICE GUYS, either. In fact, they are worse than Gates. They are elected officials charged with upholding a public trust. Bill Gates is a businessman. When Attorneys General use the power of their office to bludgeon a successful citizen in a pure, ego-driven greed-frenzy, THEY are the ones who should be answering to a high court, not Gates.

I find the entire spectacle disgusting.
Those that can't do, teach. Those that can't teach FORM A UNION and shower Democrats with campaign contributions.

I was a fortunate child. I grew up when public schools still offered a pretty good chance at an education for students who were willing to learn. I had several (non-union) public school teachers who made a huge impact on my life by showing me the magic in literature, history and science. I owe them a debt of gratitude to this day for sticking an egg-beater in my head and stirring up thoughts and ideas that would have lain dormant without their influence.

Looking back, I realize that I experienced a few incompetent teachers, but they were the exception and not the rule. I fear that the opposite is true now. I moved my family to Effingham County because the public schools here are better than the truly horrible ones in Savannah. But when my child brings home a typed missive from an English teacher warning that three "mispelled" words in a book report result in an automatic "F" grade, I must wonder: who checks HER spelling?

It won't be the NEA, because that union, just like every other union in the country today, is interested in protecting incompetents, feathering their nests for poor job performance and making them as entrenched as barnacles on a dock piling. Who better to turn to for support than Democrats, who have a vested interest in dumbing-down the population?

If we teach our children well, they may grow up to become successful, look at the tax bite the government steals from their paychecks and vote the Jackass Party out of power forever.
I sure feel a lot better about airport security when I read stories such as THIS ONE. Airport security always has been a pretty pathetic operation, but at least now a few of the illegal immigrants, convicted felons and other frauds employed there are being discovered. I suppose it's a step in the right direction. A stumbling, staggering, club-footed step, but a step nevertheless.

Monday, April 22, 2002

In honor of Earth Day, I have watered my garden, killed one unsuspecting tree-rat (Yeah, the little fuzzy turd tried to eat my okra in BROAD DAYLIGHT, right outside the French door that opens soundlessly to offer a perfect shot toward the garden. I gave him a .177 pellet right in the ear. He did a back-flip and hit the ground dead as a stone with a piece of okra still hanging out of his buck-toothed mouth. I gave him a Christian burial in my garbage can. He can be entombed with dignity in the Effingham County Landfill when the trucks pick up his worthless carcass on Wednesday.), spread some more grass seed over the devestation in my front yard and moved the sprinkler out there to water it. I will grow grass or piss away $135 worth of seed stomped into oblivion by little kid feet in wild football games. I'll take the results whichever way they come.

I am going to North Carolina this Thursday for Merlefest, a three-day bluegrass festival where a lot of my idols of musicianship will appear. I understand that a lot of people sit around campfires to pick and sing into the wee hours after the pros leave the stage, so I'm still deciding which guitar I want to take with me. The Martin is the logical choice, because it is a natural-born, booming bluegrass guitar, but I can't get drunk and fall into the campfire if I bring that collector's item with me. I probably should take the Guild or the Oscar Schmidt, because both are replaceable. But I believe I'll take the Martin and just try to keep my head screwed on straight while I'm there. It will be a challenge, but I will endeavor to persevere.

I have long believed that guitar strings have a special toxic coating on them that is absorbed through the skin. These chemicals enter the bloodstream through the tips of your fingers and go directly to your brain-stem, where they make you weird. I know a lot of musicians, and I can't think of a single one that I would call "normal" in the way the rest of the world views normalcy. But, what the hell-- normal is boring and these folks aren't. I shouldn't share this information in a public forum such as this, because the Earth Day nutbars and toxic chemical scare-mongers will want to ban the sale of my brand of guitar strings if they read this stuff. They might prefer the original cat-gut to phospho-bronze alloys, but PETA would jump their butts about that idea, and the next thing you know, I won't be able to buy guitar strings at all. So, forget that I wrote any of this.

In fact, forget that I said anything about owning a 1964 Martin D-28, because somebody may break into my house and steal it once that word circulates. Forget that I said I have FIVE OTHER GUITARS here! Plus two banjos, a mandolin, a lap steel and an autoharp, too. FORGET ALL OF THAT! That sort of knowledge could damage the fragile ecosystem of my musical world and lead to the rape and plunder of my pristine home environment by heartless polluters financed by Big Oil and chemical manufacturers. Plus, some nosey environmentalist might discover the two cans of Raid I have under the kitchen sink and accuse me of giving my son cancer because I spray the sugar ants that invade his bedroom when he leaves supper-crumbs all over the floor.

Man, I'm sorry I wrote this post. I am liable to have protesters in my front yard tomorrow burning American flags and calling ME an eco-terrorist because I play guitars made of wood, which killed innocent trees in their construction, have toxic chemical strings on them and give me only selfish joy when I play them instead of saving the planet. I am one uncaring bastard.

Yes. I am.

Today is EARTH DAY and I wanted to pour some used motor oil down a storm drain, kill at least two animals on the Endangered Species list, leave my truck idling in the driveway and belching exhaust fumes until it ran out of gas, destroy some wetlands and harvest timber from an old-growth forest to celebrate. Unfortunately, I had to work all day among belching smokestacks and toxic chemicals and couldn't fit those activities into my schedule. Instead, I had to be content with ruining the planet by doing my job.

I am totally disgusted by the BLITHERING IDIOTS behind the environmental activist-brainwashing corps in charge of that movement today. Led by that witless wonder, AL GORE, the tree-hugging Druids have built a lucrative, self-sustaining industry by creating the scare of the day and inventing the cure, which invariably involves: 1) Sacrificing personal well-being for the good of "fragile ecosystems."
2) Replacing modern civilization and longer, healthier lives with a superstitious religion that preaches doom, gloom and cancer.

The really frightening thing is that PEOPLE BELIEVE THIS SHIT! I am yet to join a rally and BURN A GREEN SWASTICA, but I'm not far from that point now. Europe appears to have bought this snake-oil, because they suffer panic attacks such as THIS, where disease-carrying insects are deemed less of a public health menace than some ghost-threat from pesticides. Then, they pass ill-considered recycling laws, when they have no plan to handle the recycling, that produce mountains of abandoned refrigerators and soon a mountain of OLD CARS. But, they are saving the planet, don'cha know.

So was Rachael Carson, whose book SILENT SPRING gave birth to the deformed child of environmentalism. Her most important contribution to the welfare of mankind is the millions of deaths she caused from malaria by her misguided attack on DDT.

Take it from The Junkman:
"While Carson's book certainly had a powerful influence on the budding green movement of the era, it was actually the wrong influence. Variously described as "scientist", "biologist" and "visionary," Carson was apparently a document clerk with the Bureau of Fisheries (later the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service). Her notoriety stems from her fourth book, the fanciful and somewhat embittered tome, Silent Spring, published in 1962 as she sought to blame some outside malevolence for the breast cancer that was to claim her life just two years later.

Carson began Silent Spring with the statement "This is a fable of tomorrow..." and then filled subsequent pages with seemingly unintended misstatements, invalid conclusions and highly selective citation. Some have unkindly accused Ms Carson of being a fraud and a liar although I prefer the more charitable view that she was simply a frightened and confused woman, seeking to blame some external influence for the failing of, and betrayal by her own body. Regardless, Rachel Carson held and expounded the bizarre notion that humanity should return to the use of lead arsenate, an extremely toxic, highly persistent and demonstrably carcinogenic substance in lieu of near-benign and very low toxicity organochlorins. That her particular target, DDT, was not a human hazard should have been obvious from its use during and immediately following the second world war. It is difficult to imagine a larger or more revealing cohort study of people with compromised health than the soldiers, death camp survivors and liberated prisoners of war who were literally and liberally doused with DDT powder to kill disease-spreading lice and fleas. Rather than poisoning these unfortunate people, DDT saved a great many of their lives by protecting them from vector-borne diseases such as typhus. Nor was there an "explosion" of cancer incidence among people so treated in the subsequent half-century, thus virtually eliminating the possibility that DDT might be a human carcinogen (Carson had, at most, two decades of follow up data available prior to succumbing to breast cancer so there might have been slight residual doubt, long since extinguished. The first large-scale use of DDT occurred in 1943 when 500 gallons of DDT were produced by Merck & Company and delivered to Italy to help squelch a rapidly spreading epidemic of louse-borne typhus. Later in 1943, the U.S. Army issued small tin boxes of 10 percent DDT dust to its soldiers around the world who used it to kill body lice, head lice and crab lice.).

Whatever Rachel Carson's motivation might have been she was completely wrong about DDT and so were those who claimed it caused raptor extirpation and myriad other ills. See Facts Versus Fears: DDT and DDT FAQ for the real situation. Worse, the fluorescent green brigade have extended the anti-chemical campaign to include all chlorine compounds with quite disastrous results, such as the outbreak of cholera from inadequately disinfected water in Peru in 1992. Of enormous concern is that this misinformation campaign is likely to cost millions more lives every year by making DDT unavailable to Third World countries where it remains the major affordable defence against malaria. See the human toll of not using DDT for more on this.

Rachel Carson proliferated some of the errors upon which the modern pseudo-environment movement is founded. Multimillion-dollar multinational fundraising bodies have compounded the falsehoods and myths for their own selfish purposes and are further entrenching them in order to line their own pockets. There is nothing either environmentally or human friendly about that."

The woman was no saint, and her legacy is dangerous.

And Earth Day is a crock.

Boy, I'm really sorry to hear THIS. Both Jimmy Boartooth Carter and William Whoredog Clinton stepped forward to offer their services as Mideast envoys and Secretary of State Colin Powell turned them down. That decision may not be a blow to peace in the region, but it's a blow to Yasser Arafat, who could depend on having his mangy ass kissed by Carter and Clinton. Bush and Powell seem inclined to direct a boot rather than a pair of puckered lips toward that unwashed and unwiped part of his anatomy. It's about time, too.

Sunday, April 21, 2002

I am trying this link just to see if the professor was right about how you can grab the exact post you're looking for instead of going to the home page when you wish to flatter a fellow blogger. So, HERE IT IS. If it works, I've broken new ground, just as I did when I learned to do italics and bold type. I continue gestating...

I LOVE THIS WOMAN! My darling pundit and sexy wench ANN COULTER discusses the Democrat opposition to drilling in the ANWR with her usual verve and reinforces my case that only brain-dead idiots oppose drilling in that god-forsaken ground. But I am redundant when I write of brain-dead idiots and Democrats in the same sentence.
Speaking of destructive, nasty rats... it COULD BE WORSE for the Palestinians. Instead of dealing with Israelis who have been suicide-bombed, rocketed and murdered in great numbers but still try to be as nice as they can be to their enemies, Palestinians could be facing the wrath of Great Britian as they did in the 1930s.

There were many differences between British policy in the 1930s and Israeli policy today, but one stands out - the British, faced with a level of Palestinian Arab terrorism considerably less lethal than that which Israel faces today, utilized anti-terror methods considerably harsher than those used by Israeli forces.

Terrorism didn't vanquish their enemies 70 years ago, so what do the Palestinians do now? Unleash more terrorism! Original ideas die of loneliness in the arid wasteland of the Palestinian mind, because the concept of civilized behavior is completely foreign to them. They've been "practicing" their self-destructive savagery for decades and they've remained a pathetic bunch of losers as a result. Why change when you're on such a roll?

I would not be surprised to see Yasser Arafat crawling around my garden and gnawing the leaves off my okra plants today, if he can weasel his way out of his besieged headquarters. It would not be a real stretch for Yasser. He is a rat, just not as cute as a squirrel.

My head hurts, my feet stink and I don't love Jesus. White Zinfandel is not a fruit drink and I believe I overindulged yesterday after my son left and I checked my garden to discover that squirrels have eaten the leaves off half my okra plants. I blame that on the drought, but if I put a pan of water out for the squirrels, they would eat the okra anyway, because they are destructive, nasty, fuzzy-tailed tree-rats, and that's what they do. My corn is sprouting, however, and I have a loaded pellet gun by my back door now in case the tree rats make another incursion in broad daylight. The gnawed okra may survive, but the rats won't if I get a shot at them.

I cooked the last of the corn I grew last year for supper last night, and it didn't last long, alas. My neighbor, Sherry The Vegetarian, came over, and she and I grazed heartily on the corn, along with blackeyed peas, rice and turnip greens. It was a meatless but filling meal. She likes White Zinfandel, too. During supper and the wine drinking, I turned my charm-emitter to maximum setting, but it must need new batteries, because she ate, drank and went back home at 9:30 last night. After that, I watched a semi-dirty movie on Cinemax and fell asleep on the couch.

I pissed yesterday away, and I believe I will do the same thing today. I have a lot of things I OUGHT to do, but I don't HAVE to do any of them, so I won't. Living by yourself does offer certain advantages sometimes.